Swarm
by Jynx'sbox
Summary: Conflicting views of Edgar Vargas by the last two people to see him alive. Non-Canon Au
1. Prologue

Swarm

Even the walls felt greasy, slick like a newborn with the afterbirth of sex and alcohol.

There was a buzz hovering over the dense crowd, pulsating with a crackling energy that was fed with every boom and thump from the overhead speakers. The floor seemed to shake as if hooked by the fingers of an oncoming earthquake and the smell of the swarm was as heady as the sweaty bugs that made it. A den of lesser beings that came to abandon what few thoughts they had for the night. To give into those primal urges.

All but a few came to spread their bodies like unraveling bolts of canvas, and of those few only one came with evil intentions. He stood, after taking several necessary trips around the club, at one end of the bar. He was as far from the door as he could be, the crowd throbbing between him and the exit. As he looked on completely unnoticed by everyone except for a sobbing woman a few seats down from him he pulled from a bag draped over his knee the small remote to the various bombs he'd placed on the support beams scattered around the building.

It would be beautiful, a series of bright lights dancing in tempo to the beat he'd decided on. It would be marvelous, crash crash boom boom and everything would come tumbling down. He would bring them to their climax in a way that would make it forever, no more temporary fixes for these lucky people.

Oh how wonderful it would be.  
[]

God it was so fucking disgusting.

Having to listen to them going at it like they didn't know he could hear them, it didn't take a genius to know that the walls of their tiny house were practically paper-thin. And they thought _he_ needed help. If that asshole hadn't taken his headphones from him he wouldn't have to listen to this shit. Looking up at the ceiling he tried his best to plug his ears as he waited and waited for them to be finished.

Aw fuck, the bed was hitting the wall. All that squeaking and bumping, he was surprised their neighbors hadn't phoned in a noise complaint. Old people, especially parents shouldn't be allowed to fuck when their kid is home. And his sperm donor got pissed when he snuck out, who would want to hear their own damn mother make those noises? And the _grunting_ that ass-whipped monkey made-!

Screams coming from a few doors down, the look his old man gave him when he took the headphones away earlier; all of it made him sick to his stomach. He rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow, preparing himself for another long night without sleep.

[]

October 17, 1995

Edgar Vargas, M.D.

Work Report

The (name removed) case has been dropped, leaving only 15 other patients on my work load, most of those bi-monthly. I believe this leaves me open to take on a few of the new patients our section was assigned in the last couple of weeks. Angela Dunham, as reported and announced on October 4, is on maternity leave starting yesterday. Her duties will be covered by Justin Seam and the final type up of her reports, as written and represented by Seam, will be done by the secretaries as they are able.

{ . . . }

. . . two of the patients have refused treatment despite both being made outpatients. Case # 452637, Johnny "Nny" C. who transferred over from the General Memorial Hospital, has reportedly barricaded himself in his home. Taking into consideration that he was only recently crippled I've decided to take him as my patient as he didn't seem to react well to Seam being near his person. It would be a good idea to perhaps convince Mr. C to meet outside of his residence until I can establish at least some of his trust before we have to resort to institutionalization . . .

{ . . . }

. . . Case # 452644 has been transferred over from an independent, state funded psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Markowitz. Recently his patient Jimmy Reeds attacked his Father with a small wrench he had hidden in his pocket. No serious or permanent damage was done but his parents confided in his former doctor that they are considering a send-away school (military/disciplinary/boarding) on account of his recent behavior. As a favor to Dr. Markowitz our clinic will be taking on Mr. Reeds Pro Bono as his family does not have health care and no longer qualifies for state-funded treatment. Seam will designate the severity of this case through an evaluation of Jimmy Reeds in his home . . .


	2. The Introduction

Chapter One

The Introduction

"_You'll be meeting him tomorrow at around six. You should be out of school by then, try to be home so things can go as smoothly as they can."_

Jimmy stared at the ugly black splotch of water damage on the ceiling with a grimace on his face.

"_Dr. Vargas will visit you at least once a week randomly until he can be sure that you're following the rules of your parole. He is in constant contact with your parole officer so make sure you're home by curfew or there will be serious consequences. But I'm sure the court judge has already spoken with you about what'll happen if you try to runaway again so we don't need to go over that."_

There was a knock on his bedroom door that he ignored even as it turned into furious banging. He could hear his father yelling, his mother calling out behind him . . . open the door Jimmy . . . Jimmy, open the fucking door . . . God damn it Jimmy . . . he sat up on his bed and stared at the shaking dresser he'd shoved in its way.

He couldn't understand what they were so upset over. He hadn't left the house in three days outside of getting driven to school and back. Oh that was a bitch too, they'd taken his license and car along with his other privileges. The car _he'd_ fucking paid for.

The banging stopped and his dad's thunderous footsteps could be heard pounding through the house to the front door.

"Jimmy, please say something." His mom called out quietly. He could see his dad wading through the dead bushes out front towards his window. When he got to it he mouthed through the glass and bars that his son was in for it when he came out.

"_I'll be going now. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me and I'm sure you and him will get along just fine."_

Jimmy smirked at the look his dad gave him. That asshole couldn't do shit and he knew it. All he'd need is one bruise, just one fresh one to convince a "Doctor" that he was being abused. He'd be out then, he'd have won the game and his parents would have to live with the brand of _child abuser_ on their foreheads.

He scratched at the electronic ankle bracelet he had to wear until this Vargas guy and his case Judge agreed he was fit to have it removed. They told him that there was no point in trying to take it off either, they'd taken measures to make sure he couldn't mess with it.

As his dad angrily waddled away Jimmy looked at the white bandage that wrapped from his temple all the way back to behind the man's left ear with pride. He could remember in vivid detail the fight between him and his dad. Fuck, the adrenaline rush he'd gotten when he'd seen the look on his face, the dark look of fear, embarrassment and anger. Beating the shit out of that lying, cheating head was probably the biggest highlight of Jimmy's month now.

He sat on his bed for the rest of the night just thumbing through some magazines and only looking up when one of his parents would test the door before leaving again. At eight o'clock he heard his old man pull out his keys and with a click he was locked in for the night. Around three o'clock in the morning, it made him feel especially spooky, he got out of bed and sauntered over to his dresser. After listening to the sounds of his dad's snores he deemed the situation safe enough to do something that would really piss them off in the morning.

It took him at least twice as long to move the damn furniture out of the way. He'd scraped his knee on a rough patch of floor and gotten some sticky and burning paint chips lodged in his nail beds but eventually he was sitting in the living room picking at them with his teeth.

Fuck, damn shit-

He couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when they woke up and found him on the front room couch. It was going to be so fucking hilarious.

[]

"So let me get this straight, he blocked the door to keep you out."

"Yes."

"And then you, using your key, locked his door from the outside. So he couldn't leave."

"N-no, I mean yes. Yes we did."

"Mr. Reeds?"

"He's got no business going in and out of the house at three in the God-damn morning."

"Honey!"

"Mr. Reeds . . ."

"Jimmy hit me over the head with a fucking wrench and I'm getting lectured over locking his door at night."

"Nobody is lecturing you, Mr. Reeds. I'm just trying to get the story straight here."

"Your son has problems." There it was, the side-stepped responsibility his dad always threw at his mom.

"_My_ son. You mean _our_ son!"

"Please calm down, the both of you."

Jimmy could hear tapping under all of the voices. Sounded like a pen, a nervous habit of this Vargas guy? He was already starting to seem like pushover.

"I'm gonna get a deadbolt, something he can't pick open from the inside-!" His father's voice boomed.

"Do you really think that's gonna fix our son? Locking him away until he does what you want him to do?" Mom, shaking with a suppressed rage of her own, everything was like that with her. He peeked around the corner.

"Okay, okay, that's enough!" All three of the adults were standing by that point. "Please sit back down." Very slowly, Jimmy's father sank into his seat, the legs of the chair making an angry hissing sound as he scooted away from his wife. She in response gave Edgar's pen a firm glare that it hardly deserved. A safer target. "Mr. Reeds, I'm sorry but I have to agree with your wife. I don't think dead bolting your son in his room is going to help this cycle you three seem to be going through."

"Well Dr. Vargle, I wasn't raised to believe that letting him run around, doing whatever the hell he wants was the right way to go about things either. The boy is lucky I didn't crack his head open after he attacked me. I know for a fact if I'd attacked my father this way, getting locked in my room for a few months would be the least of my worries."

"And though I can appreciate the obvious discipline and structure your own father has instilled in you through the fear you've just confessed to having of him, I doubt that now would be the best time to introduce anything on that level, what with the attack being fresh on everyone's mind. Today I'm going to briefly speak with all three of you to gauge how you interact with one another and then I'll talk to Jimmy alone." Haha, burn.

"You said something earlier about us leaving the house during these sessions," Mrs. Reeds spoke up, "why is that?"

"Uh, well, to be honest most patients have a hard time really opening up about what's bothering them if they feel they have no privacy to disclose it. For that very reason we usually hold them at the clinic but after talking to the judge and his parole officer I came to the conclusion that doing them here would be a good way to really asses what kinds of problems he might have at home. If I get any indication that this setup might do more harm than good I'll move them to my office at the clinic instead. Transportation will be arranged as well to help alleviate any stress it might have on your schedules." The Reeds blinked at him, but before they could really dig into the implications of what he just said Edgar called for him. The teenager sauntered in, "So," Jimmy dragged out the last syllable past the point of sincerity before he collapsed into the only chair left between his dad and the Doc, "In my own defense I'd like to confess that little pink men dance around my bed at three o'clock in the morning." His mother heaved a sigh while his father looked at him in disbelief. "This time they had on these really tight sparkly pants . . ."

"Jimmy, that's enough!"

" . . . they make the most interesting noises at night, like two silverback gorillas fucking . . ."

"Is this really the first impression you want to give-?" His mom pleaded but whose voice was lost in the boom his father made.

"Jimmy Reeds!"

" . . . and no matter what I do to block them out they just get louder and louder, one even stole my God-damned headphones so I had to listen . . ."

"Watch your language, you little shit!"

"Coming from you? Of all the people in this house to tell me to watch myself-"

"Stop." But their father/son shouting match cut the man off immediately. Jimmy watched as Dr. Vargas had to jump up to keep Mr. Reeds from trying to throttle his own child while he cackled behind them, "Let's just calm down." The man gave him a look then, and Jimmy couldn't understand why but it quieted him. He felt, just for a moment that they were sharing secrets, like this guy just _knew_.

"Sit so I can explain of few things and get this done _without_ the possibility of throwing and or breaking something." The tension in the room was thick. If the he could take a picture he would, just to savor the moment later. Once everyone had settled down, by the patronizing and somewhat irritated doctor, the man pulled out a paper of guidelines about Jimmy's house arrest. He started off on what sounded like autopilot, as if he'd done this so often he didn't really even need the paper. "Now, Jimmy you know that by wearing that security ankle bracelet you cannot leave the perimeter of your home, that means that stepping within two feet of the sidewalk will alert the local station to the breaking of your parole. Do you know what'll happen if you break parole?" He looked at Jimmy again and more secrets were exchanged.

Feigning boredom he replied, "I go to jail?" The man had the nerve to smile that condescending smile at him. He could wipe it clean off his face if he wanted to, wouldn't take much more than the greasy pan his mother had left on the stove that morning. Just four feet away and he could do it.

"That's right, you'll go to jail. That being said, am I correct to assume that you don't want to go to jail and eventually prison? You won't go to Juvie, Jimmy, you will go to prison like an adult." As if he didn't know that, as if he could pretend that the entire time the Judge was explaining the terms of his house arrest he wasn't breathing sighs of relief. Vargas cleared his throat, waiting for an answer to a question he'd assumed was rhetorical. He looked up from the table, first at his parents and then at the Doctor.

More secrets, too much. Too many.

"Yeah." Unenthusiastic, reluctant but justified agreement, the Doctor seemed satisfied. He'd seen this movie at this guy's house once. The killer in it reminded Jimmy of his new psych doctor, all innocence and normalcy until she jammed needles in your skin and cut your balls off.

"Good," Everything got really quiet then, and Jimmy thought maybe Vargas was staring at him. His parents took this as their cue to leave and when he looked up he was relieved to see the older man was actually taking notes in what he assumed was his file. Something about it didn't feel right, their house was too dirty for a doctor to visit on a weekly basis. "I'll be honest with you Jimmy, it's okay if you don't want to go too far in detail about anything in particular. I'm really just here to assess how things are going with your parole."

"For real. No ink blotches and personality quizzes?"

"Nope, just the attack. I will have to hear about it before you can have that," he pointed to Jimmy's misshapen pant leg, "removed." But, to go into that he'd _have_ to go into everything. Shit.

Very suddenly he felt cheated by manipulative wordplay.

"Is everything alright? You turned green for a second there."

"All good, thanks."

[]

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks and each meeting seemed to get more and more disastrous. Every time he started talking about something completely irrelevant Vargas turned it on him so they started on about his parents.

"So, Mrs. Ferguson starts on about how I never listen to her and how she's tired of me fooling around at the back of the room with Ester . . ."

"Ester?"

"The chick with red hair, the one who's also with me in chemistry."

"Oh, okay. Please continue." Jimmy gave him a funny look but all he got was a brief upturn of Vargas's mouth that in no way resembled a smile.

"Oh, well, she goes on and on until finally I got sick of hearing her and start pulling out my mp3 player. The look on her face," He paused briefly to fight back a maniacal giggle, "I thought she was going to shit her panties."

"Ear buds or plugs?" The question threw him off for a minute.

"Plugs, they block out more sound." They were in the kitchen, every session seemed to be held there and the older man made it very clear that it would probably stay that way unless they were going to be in the clinic. Jimmy'd tried to joke about the living room but Vargas had only looked at him like he was crazy.

"They the only ones you have?" Jimmy wasn't sure what they had to do with the story but he answered the seemingly innocent question suspiciously.

"Yes." The face he was staring at warily was blank until for a brief moment it changed and like x-ray lasers those dark brown eyes seemed to zero in on the almost invisible wire running around the back of Jimmy's neck and down into his shirt where his cheap 1 gigabyte SanDisk was tucked into his jean pocket. He leaned back into his chair and the moment passed. Vargas had yet to write anything down on his pad of paper, he stopped doing it while the teenager was talking because it seemed to have a negative effect on how truthful he was.

They stared each other down for a while until finally the older man's eyes dropped down to the table, offering a concession to Jimmy who didn't seem to appreciate it much.

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like a certain kind?"

"Not that I can think of right now."

"I like this song called Waking Up."

"Didn't figure you the type. That's by that one guy with the dreads?" Vargas smiled for real at him this time and he leaned in again. This seemed safe to Jimmy, nonsensical and irrelevant topics couldn't go into detail about his dad taking his only headphones so he'd have to listen to him and his mother having sex. This Vargas guy _knew_, Jimmy could tell because of the way they seemed to dance around the subject. The Doctor hadn't asked if maybe Jimmy was overreacting about it, that maybe his father had taken them because Jimmy'd done something wrong because he just seemed to _know_ the truth. It was confusing and he couldn't describe exactly how it worked but he could feel it.

"He doesn't have dreads anymore."

"Really? I liked the dreads. He should have kept them." They went along that vein for about fifteen minutes until once again Vargas drew them back.

"How many hours a day would you say you listen to music?" Jimmy was across the kitchen, pulling a beat up carton of Saltine crackers from the cupboard and pouring some into a plastic bowl. When he sat back down he looked at the other man with eyes that glittered all sorts of implications.

"I hear the average is three to four hours. Is that true Doc?" Vargas nodded, his expression helplessly lax in the face of Jimmy's complete disregard for his profession.

"But what about you?" Jimmy graciously offered his bowl to the Doctor who declined.

"A little more some days, a little less others." He was trying to be cryptic but the way the older man's eyes seemed to disappear behind his glasses when the light hit them a certain way made him wonder if it wasn't obvious he'd dug his own grave.

"And at night? Do you listen to music when you should be sleeping?"

"I like having something to block them out, yes." He felt cheated again, and angry.

"Does it seem like they try at all to hide what they do from you?"

"I figure they don't give a shit, I know they aren't doing construction work in there. I'm old enough to go to prison after all." Vargas didn't flinch, didn't react to the attack on their very first conversation. The bowl of crackers was being hugged to Jimmy's chest while the other stared at the skinny arms that gripped it so tightly.

"Have you told them it bothers you?"

"Not in so many words."

Vargas's watch beeped and for a moment time seemed to stop. They sat there quietly not speaking until they heard a car door slam, letting them know that the Doctor's job for the week was done and Jimmy was free to go to his room, which he did. That night, with music in his ears to muffle the sounds of the house at night, he wondered how long he could really avoid the subject of the attack on his father before Edgar forced it out of him.

[]

End Chapter One


	3. Manipulation

"Make no sudden movements

And no one need get hurt"

-Psychobabble

Chapter Two

Manipulation

_. . . seems to be showing more signs of just being an obstinate teenager rather than having any sort of actual mental handicap. Still, he is unusually sensitive and keenly aware of the emotions and attitudes of the people around him. This, I'm afraid, is what might put him in a dangerous situation later. His violent reactions are leading me to believe that he is having what I like to call a backwards reaction to the intimacy between his parents. What this means is that even the thought that they may still have a sexual relationship with one another seems to cause him to extreme discomfort. Instead of reacting in the typical manner for a young man of his age, ignoring/avoiding the subject, he seems to dwell on it. This digs deeper and deeper into him, causing a distinct distrust and resentment towards them for not acting in a way he would deem "typical"._

_Another side of this might be the perceived inappropriate nature of his parents 'flaunting' their sexuality to their son. I have two options to explore. One, Jimmy has intimacy issues stemming from a severe discomfort with his own sexuality or two, he is being psychologically, and sexually abused by his parents even if only unintentionally. But that is giving them the benefit of the doubt._

_On a side note, however, I seriously doubt they are entirely unaware of Jimmy's presence in the room right next door to theirs which leads me to believe . . ._

[]

Jimmy stared at the small pin Edgar had attached to the space just below his collar, it was a dull gray, almost invisible but impossible to ignore now that he'd seen it.

"And how long have you felt this way about her?"

There were no symbols on it, no logos or printed words, it was just a tiny plastic pin. It was barely the size of his pinky nail. Edgar's voice droned on and on, in a similar manner to the static of a radio searching for a station. Little bits and pieces of things that actually meant something seeped through for two second intervals before he finally asked something that warranted an answer.

"A couple of years now, probably as long as I've known her. What the fuck _is_ that?" Just as he said it he leaned over his tiny kitchen table to poke it, startling Dr. Vargas. The older man looked down at the fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. "it looks like you've got a fucking bug on you."

"A gift," Jimmy felt a hand brush his away, "from a former patient. I see you have issues with personal space. Care to explain that?"

"I don't know what you mean." He smirked at older man across from him who stared placidly back. "Does that sort of contact make you uncomfortable, Mr-?"

"I'm starting to think that you distract me from the current subject by pretending to forget my name. I've told you at least five times in the past few weeks so I'm pretty sure by now you must know it." Dr. Vargas leaned on the table tiredly, rubbing his temples before removing his glasses. "Perhaps you should answer my question, it could be vital to your parole." Another tiny quirk of the corner of his mouth and Jimmy faltered.

'And I'm starting to think you think you know me.' An idea came to mind, an evil idea. He leaned forward as far as the table would allow and dropped his head to catch the other's eyes.

Dark, dark brown. Almost black. He shouldn't have been surprised considering his general coloring was in varying shades of Hispanic.

"I suppose I should make my confession then. _Edgar_," He intoned, fumbling to mimic the doctor's speech patterns, "I must admit that I seem to have this _overwhelming_ need to touch you." Jimmy grinned lecherously, "It's like every time I see you I have to make _contact_. It's compulsive."

_Snap out of it_

_You're not making any sense . . ._

Edgar's reaction would have surprised him had the expression on the other's face not given away his immediate alarm. He'd been reaching out, probably to 'compulsively' grab at the pin again. A hand met his halfway while another brushed his jaw long enough for Jimmy to feel his headphone pop out of his ear. The music died and Edgar's voice went from static to crystal clear in a matter of seconds. The grip curling around his fingers was firm and the thumb pressing into his palm seemed to hit an imaginary pressure point that made him freeze.

_Now I've had it up to here_

_Don't ever try that again_

"If you think that's the strangest thing I've ever heard then I must disappoint you." What kind of things could he have heard? His earpiece clattered to the table as it was dropped. Jimmy tried to focus on something other than how intimate the situation felt even though it shouldn't have. He focused on Edgar's strangely formal gray-blue button down dress shirt, down to the black slacks and old, dull watch on his wrist resting on the table. Something kept bring his eyes back up though, back to the little off-colored pin and Edgar's expression.

Worried? Yes. Still touching? Yes.

Concern. Not what he was expecting. Not the right reaction.

It was as if Jimmy had said all the wrong and right things at that moment. Like his little joke had just divulged everything the doctor needed to know. The moment stretched and the silence thickened. 'Not the right reaction. Be embarrassed. Pull away and laugh nervously. Act like you don't know what I'm talking about. Come on, Edgar. Just play along!'

"Does this sort of contact make _you_ uncomfortable, Jimmy?"

'Don't ruin this for me.'

It was just his hand. Not a big deal, right?

Nope. His brain had short-circuited but other than that he seemed to be fine.

_Then why are you so quiet so suddenly?_

_Come on, I bet you're just dying to try me_

"I think we can end early today. I trust you won't cause your parents too much trouble again?"

Trust?

_So what do we do now?_

[]

Word had traveled quickly about his house arrest. Everyone took a chance to take a nice long gander down at his ankle. A few of the guys decided to approach him about it, one in particular spouting off about his own house arrest awhile back. Some fucking club.

Even Ester stopped to stare. Even the pretty foreign girl took time out of her fucking schedule to grace him with a look that suggested all kinds of wonderful things. She was kind of like him, not many friends and a little fucked up from something that may or may not have happened to her back home. Jimmy gave her a little grin and she sauntered off, taking an opportunity to flip him the bird before she turned the corner. House arrest sucked but at least he'd see the _very_ resourceful girl in Chemistry later.

The halls started to clear and the wall he was leaning against pressed its glazed brickwork pattern into his back. Mr. Haney made it clear that he was to wait outside the door until he was ready to let Jimmy in. So when the fifty-something year old man finally stuck his head through the door the teenager did the only thing he could think of, he took his fucking time going in. If he was ever going to get out of the psych doctor's little 'sessions' and get back to his fucking life it was all he could do. It did piss his teacher off when he did eventually get to his seat. He made a show of it too. Giggles erupted from the other students that quieted once the man at the front had slammed something on his desk. Class started immediately, pencils scratching, chalk tapping and Jimmy's leg bouncing with boredom. The added weight, though slight in reality, was enough for him to be constantly aware of it and what he'd done to acquire it.

He supposed that was the whole point of wearing it, to remind you without having to maim you. The teacher looked at him not taking notes and Jimmy glanced down at where the cuff was resting on his leg. There was a double huff of disappointment that garnered another round of giggles from his classmates and a scowl from the front of the room. Things calmed down again and he resumed not paying attention to the lesson. His parole was going to take forever to end.

Jimmy realized that even after it ended, because it would, he would have to keep on his toes or get thrown into jail. Maybe after he got the fucking thing off of him he'd leave. Go somewhere very far away.

The door was visible from where he was sitting, and in the middle of a daydream he happened to look up and see Ester's big brown eyes staring at him from the corner of the glass. She motioned for him to come to the hall but he shook his head no. Couldn't risk it, couldn't get in trouble and get expelled. His parole wouldn't allow for it. She had to understand.

And she seemed to, if her smile were any indication. She disappeared and Jimmy turned back to staring at the wood grain of his desk. It reminded him of the table in his kitchen.

The kitchen, Edgar holding his hand, fucking freak, hitting his dad in the head with a wrench, the thin walls of their home . . .

Bad thoughts, he didn't want to think of that. God his parents were so fucking disgusting.

Safe thoughts, Jimmy was so bored, Edgar was boring, Edgar . . .

He'd said that Jimmy could tell him anything, so basically their conversations were Vegas . . . Sin City, Edgar playing Texas Hold'em.

Edgar the dealer, heh.

Edgar the MOBSTER, Jimmy almost laughed out loud. He had to rest his head in his arms to keep from erupting into giggles. After taking a moment to gather his composure he looked up to see that thankfully no one had noticed. Once it felt safe to slip back into oblivion he imagined Edgar in a stylish black suit with a Tommy Gun in his hand. It actually looked kind of cool in his head.

Sin City . . . he could just imagine all of the things he could get away with. What if he and Edgar really were in Vegas . . .

Imagine all of the things _they_ could get away with.

{}

"There are rules to be followed, protocol. You break the rules and we break you."

"And just how do you plan on breaking me?"

"Now, you see Jimmy, it's that mouth of yours that's gonna get you into some serious trouble. I'm a nice guy under normal circumstances but you push me and you might not like who I become."

"Aww, come on Edgar, how long have we known each other, huh? You know I'm good for it. Why the hell would I fuck things up now?"

"Attitude. Watch yourself or I might conveniently forget our deal. _You _were the one who didn't show up yesterday. I had to have six of my best guys track you down. You wasted a lot of resources running. You owe me an even bigger debt now."

"Good."

"Wipe that grin off your face. Acting so smug. I might start to believe you cost the Hotel that money on purpose and I won't like that revelation. There we go, now, don't move. I'm gonna cut you free and you're going start working on your end of the deal."

{}

Jimmy didn't realize class had been dismissed until Ester slipped in after the teacher walked out without a backward glance. He was disappointed and a little ticked when he heard his book bag slam to the ground just as the daydream was getting good. Edgar taking his time with the ties . . . and now Ester was grinning at him. If anyone looked smug it was her, not him. She slowly backed away from his desk, her eyes on his the entire time. Taking the hint he picked up his stuff and took off after her. Jimmy decided anything was worth skipping those last two periods. Edgar would understand.

He wasn't surprised to see a car roll to stop beside him on his way home two hours later. Especially since he should have waited by the parking lot for his mom to come and pick him up.

"Get in."

"Fuck you."

"Not an option. Get in the car if you want to fix this situation you've put yourself in."

"Fine, fucking fine. Whatever." Jimmy felt such a blithe disregard for ditching those last classes, in comparison to what he _had_ been doing it seemed so pointless. He'd regret it later, he always did but for now he'd bask.

In a car.

With Edgar.

"Should I even bother to ask what you decided was so much more important than attending Chemistry and Government?"

"I was spending time with Ester." The older man sighed and Jimmy gave an inappropriately suggestive stretch that popped his back and left him sprawled in the car seat.

"Do you think doing things like this is going to help you? Do you honestly believe that sneaking around after midnight and leaving class to have sex with a girl is going to lift your parole?" The teenager looked up languidly to watch as Edgar turned the wheel of the car. The guy had pretty hands, his fingers kinda long and graceful. He could probably play an instrument with them.

Edgar the Violinist.

"I figure it doesn't really matter. What the hell am I gonna do after school ends?" Edgar the Teacher.

"You could learn a trade. Take a few college classes to get a feel for what you might want to do. You could be an artist."

Edgar the Artist.

Edgar the Writer.

"I'm no good at art."

"There are plenty of other things to try. Millions of things. Everyone is a right fit for something."

Jimmy didn't verbally respond to that, only allowed himself a few more dirty thoughts about Edgar curling those hands around his wrists and slamming them above his head before turning to stare blankly out the window. He watched the trees and street lamps whirr by, blurring like the lines he'd once defined as what made a person friend or foe. Everything was jumbled now because soon he would regret what he'd done. Nothing at that point could be considered worth his freedom. Just as he was thinking about it a tiny tidbit of nervousness crept into his stomach

He was so fucking close to getting out and away for good. What the hell had he been thinking?

Oh shit. Was it too late?

Jimmy sat up in his seat, that uncomfortable nausea of worry fully taking hold of the base of his sternum as he looked around. This wasn't the way to his house.

Where was Dr. Vargas taking him? Were they going to his parole officer? What the fuck was going on?

"I got a call from your Dad and the school. He doesn't want you home right now." Oh shit.

"For skipping two class periods? That is fucking ridiculous."

"Actually he called me before your principal did. Apparently you set the stove on fire yesterday after I left. You're lucky the school called _after_ I talked to the judge about it. I'm not even sure how I convinced them to turn the other way on this one."

"That was an accident. I even cleaned that shit up myself _after_ I apologized to my Mom, that bastard hovering over me the whole time screaming about what a burden I can be. He wants to talk burdens he should really take a look in the mirror and then shove his head through it once he realizes he's being a fucking hypocrite." Suddenly the hole in the right knee of his pants looked really interesting. He waited for something, anything from the man to his left.

The rest of the drive was silent. Soon they pulled up to a plain, two story square building where Jimmy could see his Mom sitting on some brick edging by a set of stairs. Beside her were several gym bags and large plastic sacks of what he could only assume was his stuff. His laptop was being held in her arms and her eyes were staring at the concrete. She looked so much less vibrant than he could remember her being when he was little.

They parked and Jimmy jumped out of the car. He didn't hear the doctor follow him as he cautiously made his way up to his mother. She only looked up when she caught sight of his shoes shuffling closer to her. Mrs. Reeds smiled tiredly at him and Edgar hung back not wanting to intrude.

He didn't have to force himself to hold still as she smoothed down the small pieces of his hair that fell in front of his ears. She looked him over her expression turning nostalgic. It was as if she was seeing him the way she had years ago. Were they both missing the way things used to be? He was essentially looking down at her so now it was a little hard to imagine he was just a kid again. Back then they'd been so brave.

Back then they'd only had each other.

Jimmy didn't want to feel that tiny pinprick of anger at his mother for feeling so lonely all the time but he couldn't help it. He hadn't been enough for her, she just had to let that asshole back into their lives. Things were so complicated now.

"This must be really terrible of me. I'm a terrible mother."

"Where am I gonna go?"

"Here," She motioned to the building behind her, "Just until your parole ends then we'll figure something out. You could get a job, get an apartment. God only knows you've always wanted one."

She wasn't mocking him, she could never feel satisfied about the way things had gone for her family. She seemed so weathered, so fragile now. Jimmy didn't want to touch her, didn't want to be the one to break her. They didn't hug, there were no tears shed and no more words exchanged as the three of them hauled Jimmy's stuff inside the clinic. She just kept smiling at him, trying to be brave again because she knew he'd need it.

It was the last thing she could give him.

[]

End Chapter Two

Next up; Chapter Three: Defiance

Edgar meets his next new patient and decides that something doesn't feel right about him.

A/N: I am looking for a beta because I just seem to be missing a lot of tiny mistakes. If anyone is interested let me know.


	4. Defiance

Chapter Three

Defiance

_Ring_

_Ring _

It was just another noise to add to the violent churning in his head. Just another . . . just another . . .

_Ring_

_Ring_

'Leave a message please. Leave me alone please.

Stop with the calling'

His hip was aching and the mottled, warped wood of his wall was carving different types of hurts into the skin of his back. If he pulled at his hair long enough Johnny was sure that white hot pain would block it out.

_Ring_

_Ring . . ._

He pulled one last time. Eventually whoever it was gave up and he could breathe again. Staring at the funny dark color of the telephone he could never remember purchasing, Johnny carefully pulled himself up and grabbed the headset off the base to set it on the table. He could feel splinters pulling at the back of his shirt, tugging like his fingers tugged his hair.

The dial tone drove him limping out of the room afterwards.

[]

Jimmy and Edgar were in the older man's office, at the clinic. It was becoming a very familiar place as time passed. He knew the clerks and nurses by name now, even the shitty night shift ones. Those were the ones who kept telling him that staying up past four wasn't good for a high school student. It could be bad for his health or some shit like that. They also hated checking up on him, because in their opinion he was Dr. Vargas's responsibility, not theirs.

Jimmy loved reminding them that since the clinic paid them to keep the building secure then he was just as much their God damn responsibility. He loved snarking on them too. He passed the night away jumping on them for not checking up on him at least once every two hours.

"_You've got to keep on your toes Colene. I could have snuck right past you and you wouldn't have even noticed!"_

"_Get back to your room, Jimmy! How the hell do you keep getting out?"_

"_Hah! I'm going to bed. You're so bad at your job there's no use trying to stay up to fuck with you. I could walk out any time that I like and you wouldn't even notice."_

"_If I see you out again I'll report you to Dr. Vargas for night time disruptions. You're going to wake the other patients!"_

"_Then do your job, asswipe!"_

So Edgar had taken away his television and computer privileges for a week.

And he had predictably thrown a fit, which resulted in a one-sided screaming match with Mr. Poker-face calmly explaining to an inconsolable, irate high schooler that the Internet was rotting his brain anyway. A sort of cycle began rearing its ugly head and the other staff members considered watching them 'fight' better entertainment than television ever could be.

Jimmy stared at the older man from one of the big cushy chairs in front of his desk. Whoever he'd been trying to call apparently wasn't home. The teenager adjusted the textbook in his lap and doodled a little more while Edgar sighed and made more notes in someone's file before demanding that he stop drawing and actually do his Government vocabulary.

"I'm leaving in two hours, Jimmy. If you're not done by then I'll request that your teacher give you actual homework."

"Hey! This shit is homework."

"Copying words out of the glossary is not work, it's an easy grade. Doing research that requires weeks of study and a 5000 word essay is work. _That_ crap they gave you should take less than an hour to do."

"There's like fifty terms here."

"Good God, you are so lazy."

This time his sigh was a little melodramatic. Their friendly banter was just as much entertainment as their actual fighting was, the janitor said it was interesting to see the boss so much less serious than he usually was. He almost seemed light-hearted when Jimmy was around. The more he thought about it the more he wondered.

Maybe his daydreaming wasn't so far off.

Or maybe it was because Jimmy wasn't as much of a serious case by comparison. He'd actually met the other patients, the people who were there because they'd done bad things to others and especially themselves. Jimmy as far as they could tell was a victim of circumstance. They were victims of their own minds.

Edgar wasn't the only one who seemed less serious when Jimmy was around. If any of the other patients living there had managed to get out of their rooms in the middle of the night he was sure the night staff would have called security if not the police. He got yelled at a lot, sure, but people almost seemed relieved when they saw it was him causing a ruckus rather than someone else.

Jimmy imagined what it would be like to crawl over Edgar's desk, pushing and kicking all of those useless knick knacks out of the way as he went.

"Do your homework, Jimmy. Stop daydreaming."

He grinned, if only the man knew. "Yes sir." Apparently he'd heard something he found interesting in the student's voice because he looked up from the file and set his pen down. Jimmy knew what that meant. Analyzing time.

"Where have your thoughts been lately?"

"On stuff." He shrugged, trying not to smile in a way that would immediately give away the sexual turns his dreaming always took. Sometimes they got really dark.

It didn't matter where they were, his imagination could always make the setting work for an encounter between him and his doctor.

Edgar the Patient

Edgar the Psycho

Anything. Everything. Briefly he wondered if this was one of those things he should tell Edgar about. But no, it was too personal. He wasn't so off his rocker that he'd sit there and give the man a play by play of his fantasies. He looked forward to the day he'd have the balls, though. Maybe Edgar would be embarrassed about it, made excited by it . . .

"Are you listening to me or daydreaming again?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Finish up." Mechanically he started writing out more terms. Only ten more to go.

If Edgar were crazy he'd have to be confined to a place like this. They'd have to take measures to make sure he didn't hurt himself or anyone else. Jimmy imagined straitjackets and beds with white straps and brown leather wrist cuffs. They'd have locks too.

He felt the weight of his necklace against his throat and wondered what it would be like to have a key on the chain instead of the medallion he had on it now. To have that symbol of power so close he could feel it on his skin every time he moved. He saw white walls and bright lights, sheets mused from struggling but a body as calm as if in sleep. He could imagine those dark eyes watching him as he approached, analyzing him, locking with his in a way that demanded obedience. But didn't the patient realize that there was no use trying to demand such a thing in his situation?

No, he must not have. Perhaps Jimmy should remind him.

He would pull the key out, shining and silver, brand new. Those wrists would flex instinctively, red from rubbing the soft inner padding of the cuffs. There was nothing he could do, no words that manipulative voice could say. Jimmy imagined that the standard pale grey scrubs the patients wore would make Edgar look much younger, almost boyish as opposed to the very professional clothes he usually wore. Long sleeved, collared shirts made him seem so uptight.

"Are you done?" Edgar's voice ripped through his thoughts like a jagged, hooked knife. Jimmy looked down at the book and the papers in his lap, checking for any missing words.

"Yeah, I'm finished." The mysterious file on the older man's desk was flipped through again, a mess of mixed matched papers and doctors' signatures.

"I'm just going to try calling this number again and then we can go downstairs to the foyer. I don't have to see anyone else until tomorrow anyways. We can try to get the others to socialize a little more. They only seem to do that when you're around."

Jimmy hummed distractedly as he packed up his stuff. He could still see the room in his mind, still see more of that skin than he would ever see in real life. He wouldn't allow Edgar to wear his glasses, either. Too dangerous.

He pulled himself out of his reverie when he distantly heard the beeping of the phone on the doctor's desk.

"That's funny, now the line's busy."

"Who're you trying to call?" Jimmy asked, his mood and voice a little broody. Edgar glanced up after carefully lining up the papers in the folder.

"Just someone I'm going to meet tomorrow." He filed it away in a locked cupboard before the two of them headed out. "I had hoped I could get a hold of him before hand but I guess he's busy."

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you."

"Shut up."

[]

Almost a month ago his leg prevented him from actively leaving his house. That was not a happy time to remember. So many strange things had happened, so many bad things had almost revealed themselves. Johnny was lucky he had such nosy neighbors.

But now he was so used to his leg that he didn't even bother with crutches anymore. He now had this really nifty cane that he had gotten from an old man who used to live a few blocks down from him. It had come in handy, very handy. He was lucky the man had no complaints in parting with it.

It was strange, his handicap seemed to have the oddest effect on people. They seemed to thrive on trying to help him, as if he was some kind of ego boost to their day. Like opening a door for him made up for the shitty things they'd done and said to other people.

How naive of them.

As he reached the store he noticed some people coming out, smirking at him in a familiar way until they saw his limp and immediately scrambled to offer their services in a brief moment of self redemption. He would not be their savior.

Just as they stood aside to let him pass he used his cane to knock their feet out from under them. The man in front slammed into the ground with a grunt while the other man and woman behind him screamed as they tumbled over each other and on to the sidewalk. He stepped inside, grinning in happiness at the lesson he was able to teach those young people.

It felt good to give back.

He only barely acknowledged the attention that the other people inside of the convenience store gave him after the commotion. He passed several wide-eyed old ladies on his way to take a seat and wait in one of the four booths lined up against the store's large window. Someone was going to meet with him today, he didn't like it, didn't want to bend his will to the people who threatened to invade his home and privacy but things had been strange since the accident. That flash of light and sound had scrambled things up. Sometimes it was near impossible to hear anything but a high pitched squeal and other times the racket that the voices made was so overwhelming Johnny was sure his body would implode from the outside pressure.

He noticed movement at the front of the store and when he looked up several more people came in all at once. He was waiting for a _Vargas_ and from the looks of it only one of the people walking towards him might have been Mexican.

Was Vargas a Mexican name? It sounded ethnic enough.

The man stopped by his table and made some sort of wavy-hand motion towards his ears. When the sign was ignored he sat across from Nny and started talking. Of course with his headphones on full blast it was impossible to hear him.

The man kept on talking though, and a game began within Johnny's head. How many words could he decipher just by watching the other ramble on and on?

He stopped trying at 'have your consent'. The ear phones came off.

"So I have your permission?" The other man smiled, pleased with himself.

"Consent for what?" Sharp, nettles stinging and stabbing into a goose feather pillow. No phasing, no flinching.

"Were you not listening to me? Maybe now you will." Subtle reminders, Johnny felt a sort of irritation at being manipulated but kept his cool. Power was not with him here. Vargas meant freedom.

Things had been strange, they proved they could take everything away. They would ruin everything, all of his plans. He just needed to hold out as long as he could. He had to endure.

Breaking. This Vargas guy had a blank expression, an empty face. The tiny flickers of weakness were not there . . .

"Since you refused to allow a medical professional into your home I'm obligated to ask. How is your leg doing?"

The doughboys accused him of being blindsided by the events at the club. They said it was his fault for going in the first place. Boom . . .

The end.

The other man cleared his throat and Johnny stopped staring down at his boots. They accused him of being dazed lately as well.

Being distracted, he'd been so distracted since the accident. Some rational thoughts voiced by Nailbunny said he should tell the man about this reoccurring symptom the doctors had promised would go away eventually. He was still finding it very difficult to focus on anything in particular.

"Mr. C? How is your leg feeling?" seconds ticked by like water drops in his head. Johnny looked up and the doctor reached into his bag to grab a folder with papers inside. He started making notes and as he did the white fuzzy lines around the edge of Johnny's vision started to fade. He'd hardly even noticed it this time, the whine in his ears was already gone. Maybe things were getting better.

"It's fine." The man looked up at him, "I hardly even feel it anymore." Click click click of metals gears behind the man's glasses as things fell into place. Johnny imagined that if he ripped them off of his face he'd pull out a head's worth of wires and calculating . . . that calculating expression. Reading . . . reading . . .

Stop, stay focused. Don't stray.

"Even so, I still think we should have a look at it while I have you. I couldn't get a hold of you yesterday so we should head down to the clinic now as I doubt you'd go to any appointment I could set up. It'll only take about an hour and then I'll let you go." It had already been decided. Papers and hands were disappearing into that bag and something was creeping up Nny's spine. Something dangerous was itching at his neck, traveling down his arms and buzzing at his fingertips. Just as the man stood up to leave Johnny snatched at that retreating wrist and held on as if both their lives depended on it.

"I think I want to go home," Calm so, so calm, "I should go home. I did exactly what you people asked, I came to your little meeting and now you want me to go somewhere else. No, I _need_ to go home." Empty, empty expressions, empty eyes. There was nothing . . . when he looked up all he could see were the microscopic gears turning over and over again behind that uncaring expression. Like a mask there was no sympathy on that face.

Johnny distantly realized that the man was reading him objectively.

He saw no scorn or contempt, no surprise or indignation at being grabbed so violently. A strange sort of elation chased away the unease at being told what to do and slowly his fingers uncurled and released the skin, blood and bone it had been clinging to. When Dr. Vargas spoke again Johnny listened attentively, not so much to the words as the way his voice sounded. He was looking for some kind of clue as to where this monster had come from.

"I'm not asking you to stay with me for the rest of the day. Just accompany me to the clinic and back so we can make sure that you haven't had a relapse. You're only other option is to go to the City hospital. It's your choice."

[]

Oh the stories he could tell.

Was telling. The things that happened at the clinic were book worthy.

A woman ran head first into a wall the other day and Jimmy had been standing not even a few feet from her when she did it. She'd hit the wall so hard that there'd been a splat of blood upon impact. Edgar, who'd been standing right next to him, rushed forward to grab the girl's arms before she could get up to do it again.

Several people were standing around him now in the cafeteria, they were listening in awe to his story. He'd gone from social outcast to that weird kid who lived in an insane asylum.

"Did she die?"

"That's so sick!"

"She might have a stress disorder. Sometimes when they freak out they can't control themselves."

"Do you know why she was in there in the first place?"

"Maybe she killed her family."

"Drowned her kids."

"Stabbed her husband."

"Set someone's house on fire!"

"That is such a freaky story, Jimmy."

"So I guess that makes you crazy too, huh?"

"Man, I always knew something was up with you."

A different kind of respect, a fearful kind. They wondered what he was capable of, hell, even Jimmy himself wondered. Never mind that in reality he'd just gotten kicked out of his house. Never mind that Edgar had set it up on the pretense that he needed the doctor's help. Jimmy was obviously sick.

"Just like a loser like you to get stuck in a place like that." Another voice cut in. Jimmy looked up at Ester, eying the unreadable expression on her face. The others didn't know her the way he did. Everyone else was floored by the sound of her voice, everyone was shocked that she could talk at all. For so long they'd been convinced she was a mute, that some kind of horrible accident had left her physically unable to speak. The entire section of the cafeteria grew still and completely silent.

But Jimmy had heard it before. He'd done things to that body that had forced the noises out. And what a fun time she'd had trying to explain to him why she never talked to _anyone_. They'd shared so much, so many thoughts, hopes and dreams. Fantasies even, almost everything had been put on the line because _who_ was she going to tell? Who would listen to _Jimmy_ if he did tell?

She didn't like that people were paying attention to him, didn't like that he was so willing to tell the secrets of the strangers at the clinic. If Jimmy was willing to tell their stories would he tell anyone about hers? Ester wanted even ground. He had to know that she could squeal on him if she wanted to. 

It made sense, people where clamoring up to him to hear the horror stories, they wanted to talk to Jimmy because suddenly he was _interesting_. But this sound reasoning didn't stop the sting of betrayal he felt. He knew where this was going, knew what she was going to do if he didn't stop her.

"But really, are you anything more than an attention-starved juvie reject? The last I recall you said your father-"

"Big talk from the slut who's screwing this attention-starved reject, isn't it?" Everyone was looking between the two of them, watching them like they were a circus side show. It wasn't a big thing for Jimmy to call a girl such a vulgar word but _this_ girl? The only one in the school who could stand him on a regular basis? The one who was only moments ago on par with a _cripple_?

But she wasn't something to be pitied by them anymore, was she?

No one stopped him from verbally abusing her for a good ten minutes before the bell rang. She would probably count her blessings later that most of what he'd said hadn't been too revealing but she'd been _humiliated_ all the same. As everyone was leaving a few other girls commented on how much of a jerk he was even though none of them had tried to defend her. A few of the guys came up to say that they hated him even though none of them had done anything about it.

Ester and Jimmy had never been friends. She was a lot like him in a variety of ways, but outside of those similarities they were two completely different people. He was the way he was, he didn't justify it or hide it. Even when they'd shared intimate details about the darker thoughts in their heads he hadn't tried to analyze it the way she had. She'd given excuses for liking the idea of tying someone up and watching them squirm, for wanting to take a lead pipe to someone's head over and over again until what was left wasn't recognizable.

Jimmy hadn't.

And if his smile a few moments ago was anything to go by, it was probably because he still didn't think there was anything wrong with it.

[]

A/N: Future beta has been found. This chapter will be updated later with better grammatical forms and such. Spelling may improve as well, WE CAN ONLY DREAM CAN'T WE LADIES?

*ahem*

End Chapter Three

Next up: Chapter Four; Desperation

A strange atmosphere has settled over the clinic. Edgar's newest guest has sent the other patients buzzing . . .


	5. Desperation

Chapter Four

Desperation

Talk travels. The hallways, the classrooms, word gets around like a botfly on its last day to live and procreate. It impregnates the mind and sends wiggling babies into the ears of every walking deathtrap ambling about his school. That's who came to see him at the end of his classes; a walking deathtrap.

Sure his day had been surprisingly good. He'd essentially bitch-slapped Ester for thinking she could humiliate him, highlight of his week so far. He'd conquered his Spanish teacher's attempts to fail him by claiming he now had a Spanish tutor afterschool, in his fantasies Edgar spoke a variety of different languages, and all physical confrontations with his bright and shiny peers had been avoided. That last one seemed to surprise and disappoint the security guards.

He'd made snarky comments of course but it would seem that he wasn't the only one on thin ice.

As he stood near the bus stop in front of his school for his the Doc to come pick him up Jimmy noticed that the few people still hanging around simultaneously wandered away until only he was left standing on the hard concrete of the courtyard. For a brief moment he questioned the collective look of panic until he realized that someone familiar was walking towards him. When their eyes made contact a dark sense of wariness came over Jimmy.

He wasn't a student and didn't go to class but was Jimmy's age and could be seen roaming the halls regardless. Teachers hardly paid him any mind, the point to his generally generic appearance, but most of his classmates knew who he was. There were a variety of other people who claimed to _be_ like him or who expressed an interest in his particular field of business but anyone with the brainpower of a tomato knew that being _that_ kind of a person wasn't easy. Jimmy refused to even try.

Drug trafficking was a risky trade, one that overlapped into some really dangerous habits and some serious lawbreaking. To some it looked cool, until you met the people successfully involved in it. Jimmy liked drugs, but not enough to get cut open for them. Some guy named Sammy, he thought from his old math class, was found about thirty miles outside of the city months back with his innards in a dirty mess around him. Bags of cocaine had been removed from his stomach by some dealers who liked to cut corners and middle men.

And besides all that he'd decided a long time ago to go it alone, he was solitary by nature after all and darkness don't run in packs. Only dumb mother fucking dogs did that.

Jimmy was no one's bitch.

That's why he held himself high and took deep even breaths as the other teenager walked up to him and held a small white index card out in his hand. The voice he heard speaking to him shouldn't have come from such a deceptively normal looking mouth, his tongue should have been black and pointy or something.

"I saw you this morning, you're Jimmy." Like ooze that voice, it made him itchy in strange places. Jimmy tried to distract himself from shuddering in disgust by imagining the soft tenor of someone else, someone who was _really_ late to pick him up. "I like you, if you want to end your sentence early give me a call." If Edgar had ever said that to him he'd have jumped the man with how suggestive it was. But coming from this guy it just sounded fucking creepy.

Briefly he envied that kind of creepiness, that without looking like a psycho he could still come across as one.

"I don't mix with _your_ kind." Was all Jimmy could conjure up from his stuck throat before turning back to face the street. He saw some big guys loitering by the parking lot. One thing always leads to another in the same way taking Ritalin sometimes leads to doing Heroin and he wasn't going to get caught up in that. _I'm no one's bitch, I'm no one's bitch, I'm no one's bitch . . ._

"Mixing wasn't something I had in mind." Fucking amusement in that Dracula voice, "I was thinking along the lines of an exchange, I help you and you help me." That's how it always starts, that's how it always starts . . .

"Fuck no."

"I know how we can have that ankle monitor removed, I know how to get you out of that clinic you're being held at as temporary housing." Jimmy knew there were ways and until recently figuring out those ways had always been his top priority. Now something nagged at him, Edgar's voice ticking away at whatever might have encouraged him to accept the offer before he started living at the clinic.

"_Jimmy, you don't have to say anything to me. In fact I would rather you not say anything if all you're going to do is blatantly lie to my face. Our meetings aren't torture sessions. I'm not going to force information and trust out of you. If you don't want to talk about something yet feel free to keep it to yourself but please remember that I'm not here to try to be your friend or parent or parole officer. I'm not going to follow you or talk to anyone else about what we talk about. I'm just someone who's here to listen and offer different ways to handle and deal with any situation you come across."_

'What if a drug dealer approaches me with an opportunity to leave this shitty place permanently in exchange for either a simple drug run or my life in the most extreme case?' Jimmy asked the imaginary Edgar in his head. For a moment there was silence before he heard a 'reply'.

"_I'd like to someday meet the person who randomly tells kids these days that life is supposed to be peachy-keen. I want to find that asshole and punch them in the face. It's making life difficult for the rest of us."_

Jimmy smiled at the memory of that one session. Edgar had been surprisingly catty that day.

"So I take it you'll consider my proposition. Good." A card was pushed into his hand and just as suddenly the Deathtrap walked away. After a moment though he paused and turned back to say; "Oh and the offer stands until 12 o'clock. I need an answer by then." Shit. Jimmy could barely hear his fucking footsteps on the concrete. Dead silence followed the guy's departure until one of the secretaries from the clinic pulled up in Dr. Vargas's place. Jimmy hardly blinked through her explanation of why the older man couldn't pick him up. They were off in a flash, heading towards the clinic just as his home-arrest-nightly deadline was coming to a close. The secretary smiled at him saying she had been afraid Jimmy might try to walk to the clinic instead of waiting for her. He listened to the jingle of genuine relief in her voice as she cheerfully joked about how depressing his school looked and budget cuts.

Not sure why it was so important Jimmy wracked his brain for her name. He thought it might have been Mayra.

[]

"Does it hurt at random times or only when you strain yourself?"

"If it does hurt is there anything you could actually do to make it better?"

"Not really, no."

"Then why are you asking?"

[]

Jimmy felt strangely unsettled when he was dropped off a few feet from the front doors of the clinic. It took the form of an eerie silence in the parking lot that rushed him into the safety of the doors and whitewashed walkway of his new home. Uncannily enough the feeling didn't go away even as he made his way towards Edgar's office.

"He's not in right now, _sweetie_, he's examining another patient in a private room down the hall. You'll have to wait until he's finished." The pure irritation in the 2nd shift clerk's voice was almost tangible and made Jimmy want to raise his hackles at her like a cat. Rolling his eyes he realized that he must not have been the only one feeling the weird vibe.

Silently he wondered who the patient was.

Normally if Edgar was talking with someone he did it in his office and no one really used proper nurse code around him anymore. They used names.

Hmn

Knowing better than to ask the _obviously_ busy woman at the front desk who the person was Jimmy decided to figure it out himself, surely he could go to the patient rec rooms and just see who was missing from the daily activities. It was the perfect plan. Step 1: Drop off Education Gear and Excess Baggage.

See! Stalking Edgar while he was working did help improve his vocabulary. He'd have to rub it in the man's face later.

Jimmy made it to his room with a crash that sent his door flying into his wall and giggled when one of his high strung neighbors started crying again. A passing nurse demanded he stop doing that and he lied and said he would try. Edgar once told him that having a daily ritual could be soothing on a rough day. Boy was he right.

Distantly something nagged at him, something he should be worrying about. He brushed it off.

He closed the door quietly behind him to satisfy the irate girl trying to calm the hysterical man who had wandered into the hallway after being frightened by the loud noise. His bag made a satisfying thud when he threw it down and he waited for the tiny wail from outside that always put an extra wide smile on his face. Sure enough the man's voice started up again and the nurse screamed his name along with a few choice obscenities about his choice of clothing and possible sexual preference.

The familiarity of the situation made him sigh with relief. He flopped down on his bed and for a brief amount of time things didn't seem so complicated and shitty. He just breathed and concentrated on the air going in and out of his lungs, vital and smelling of fine dust and the slightly acrid odor of an old ventilation system. Jimmy noticed that every time he inhaled one of his shirts pulled lightly on his jeans, that his pants were starting to get a little short on him and that the ankle bracelet made one leg feel just a bit heavier than the other. His pillow was lopsided, his blanket softer than the one he'd had back at his parents' house. Right at that moment of hyper physical awareness he noticed that the small index card in his pocket was digging into his thigh and it for some reason _really fucking hurt_. Jimmy's eyes snapped open and he shot up so he was sitting to dig the offending piece of hard paper out and chuck it across the room. That feeling was back full force and it made him insanely fucking uncomfortable.

'I'm not going to be a fucking lap dog.'

Breathing heavily he stomped into the hallway, barely noticing that the nurse and emotionally scarred patient had disappeared , and headed out to find the patient responsible for taking up so much of Edgar's god damn time. He furiously pushed at the swinging door that lead to the TV room and mentally ticked off names from his personal patient list. But even after checking the game room, the sitting room, and foyer area he couldn't think of a single person who wasn't accounted for. For a good few minutes he thought maybe that _fucking slut_ Kacy had been the one until he found her pacing back and forth in the tiny library that essentially no one used near the back of the building.

Completely frustrated out of his mind he started to run towards the front of the building, intending to ring it out of the desk clerk just _who_ thought so highly of themselves that it was okay to monopolize the doctor when one of his _real_ patients needed for a very important reason.

He nearly slammed into a male nurse who grabbed firmly onto Jimmy's wrist and demanded to know why he was running.

"I need to talk to-" he paused, panting and feeling light headed "to Edgar." He wrenched his hand away and started to go again but the back of his shirt was jerked and he spun around infuriated. Nothing and no one was going to get in the way of what he wanted.

Wanted to do. Yes, what he wanted to do. Not what . . . he . . . wanted . . .

Fuck.

"There's no point, Jimmy. Dr. Vargas is with someone right now. He went into one of the examination rooms and said to hold off all of his appointments. It must be really important if he had Shannah cancel all of them."

"So what, he can just decide that the rest of us aren't worth his time? That maybe our shit isn't as important as this fucktard he's seeing now?" 'What the fuck am I supposed to do now?' he thought to himself. The air that had come so freely into him in his room was being ripped from his body and was making him light headed.

'What do I do now? What do I do now? What do I do now?'

"You know that's not true Jimmy. Give him some credit kid, he deals with people like you every day. One evening to yourself isn't going to kill you. Just tell him tomorrow." But the invisible threat didn't leave room for tomorrow and reality hit him like a heavy stone.

"Can you at least tell me who he's with?"

"Some outpatient. Like you until you moved here. I can't seem to remember his name."

[]

"Johnny, is there something you're not telling me? Something I should know?" Like quiet like silk like soft and poisonous velvet that was thick and heavy with water and implications implications . . .

Suspicion

Wonder

Curiosity

He looked into those carbon copy lenses and tried to see the eyes behind them but couldn't, he tried to see the seedy soul filled with lies and deceit that should have been there but wasn't. Could he tell?

Could he tell him his secret from the world?

Could he tell if he was honest? Would Edgar understand?

Could logic understand the illogical?

Logic makes no sense to the senseless and Dr. Vargas seemed to be someone unable to feel sensation. Touch was touch, neither bad nor good and for some unfathomable and incomprehensible reason the knowledge that this man couldn't be human was a comfort to Johnny.

"How strange is it that I'm the only one who survived the explosion?" The other man paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table behind him. Johnny was glad the examination of his permanently damaged leg was over and that there was really nothing to report. It had healed the best it was able and that was all there was to it. Edgar had said he was lucky it hadn't gotten worse.

What was worse than a permanent limp? As far as he had experienced it was a bad as it could get. Would he miss the near dead weight if the doctors had just removed it? Probably not, the doughboys could help him fashion a working replacement.

Huh.

"I wouldn't call it strange. Lucky more like. You were very lucky to survive."

"Do you believe in luck? I don't." and the doctor adopted a strange expression. He couldn't decipher it. Like a mix of confusion and keen awareness is such was possible, which he doubted.

Suspicion

Suspicion

Suspicion

[]

Jimmy had a lot more freedom than some of the other patients, so the clerk didn't even register that he walked by her and towards the examination room hallway. Very slowly he checked the doorknobs, looking in on the empty and nearly identical rooms. With each one he didn't find Edgar in a painful mass started building in his chest. Eventually he reached the last one. There were 11 in all and each and every one was empty. When he reached the hall that intersected with the one he was in he crossed it and leaned heavily against a pair locked double-doors that lead to the group therapy room. Panicking always made him feel like he was going to pass out.

As he turned to walk back to his room and wallow he noticed another door, positioned carelessly off to the side. It was out of the way and inconspicuously named _examination room 12_. He thought there was no way Edgar could be there, the clinic already felt empty of his presence so as soon as he would pull up the nerve to test it he was sure it would be as empty as the others had been.

He walked right up to the door but as he reached it he hesitated. What if it was empty? What would he do then?

What if Edgar had left for the day?

For some reason, telling him about what had happened outside of school seemed important. This had to be one of those things Edgar had mentioned that he'd help Jimmy deal with if he told him. Normally letting it get to him would have felt childish but the idea that he now _had_ someone he could run to, he _had_ someone to protect him . . .

But that was all falling apart for him now for some reason. He reached out and gently twisted the freezing cold metal of the lever doorknob . . .

Oh thank the Lord's Divine Ass. It was locked.

Edgar was there, just on the other side of the door.

Jimmy felt nauseous now with relief and slowly stumbled to the cold space of wall across from the room. He would wait until the older man was done with the other outpatient and then he'd finally tell him everything. He'd give Edgar what he wanted in exchange for that now welcomed sense of security.

[]

"Do your other patients normally sleep on the floor?"

"Jimmy? What are you doing down there?"

[]

Foggy. His eyes were cloudy with sleep and the hand on his shoulder moved to help him sit up. A familiar voice asked him questions but he couldn't pick out any particular words. After a few seconds he registered that Edgar was the one gently shaking him.

"I need to tell you somethin' important." His eyes cleared and he saw brown eyes peering at him worriedly. Movement snatched his attention from the doctor and through his sleep goggles he saw a dark shape moving away from them towards the front of the clinic.

"Can it wait? I have to drive someone home really quick."

"It's important." He repeated. Pleaded almost. Edgar seemed to grow even more concerned but the sound of something heavy hitting the floor near the front and yelling distracted him.

"I'll be back soon. Have someone let you into my office and wait for me there. I'll be back as soon as I can." And with that Edgar raced after the other outpatient, whoever he was. Jimmy's eyes finally cleared and he was left staring at that empty examination room.

[]

End chapter 4

Next chapter preview;

"How funny that you would survive. I had a feeling you'd be perfect."


End file.
